Inceptum Aliud
by Hildwyn
Summary: The supernatural returns to Port Royal, and it has mystery and death on the mind as it goes after the likes of Will Turner, the Swanns, and Navy boys.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Inceptum Aliud

Author: Hildwyn

Rating: PG- PG-13

Summary: Supernatural events abound at Port Royal

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, nor do I own any of the characters. Disney Enterprises, Inc and Jerry Bruckheimer, Inc have that honor. The only ones I 'own' are the original ones.

Notes: I swear, I'll get around to the next chapter of 'Tale of the Immortal Captain Sparrow' soon. Really . . .

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Inceptum Aliud

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Chapter 1

A pair of servants entered the room bearing trays covered with teacups and scones. They carefully set them down on the table, setting for three seats.

Two people were already present and seated at the table, one tall and distinguished-looking with aristocratic clothing and a grey curly wig. He took his teacup and added some sugar before he brought it up to his lips to drink. He was the stereotypical image of the English elite.

The other seated man was also tall and English, however the similarities ended there. The younger man had his dark wavy black hair tied back with a leather cord, and though dressed in his Sunday best, which was adequate for the setting, he looked ill at ease with both the location, and his companion.

An uncomfortable silence stretched- the only sound that of the teacups being placed on their saucers, or a spoon touching the side of a teacup as it was being used to stir the tea.

The first to bread the verbal silence was the aristocrat, a Weatherby Swann by name, and the Governor of Port Royal.

"So, Mr. Turner, I hear that you have gained some important commissions recently for the shop, including from Fort Charles."

Will cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Yes, the Commodore was kind enough to choose Mr. Brown's smithy to forge the required . . . items."

Both the Governor and the blacksmith knew what the requested items were- new cell bars to replace the temporary ones that had been in place from about a month prior- before they had been ripped out by a the blacksmith when breaking out a pirate.

It was a surprise that Commodore Norrington had indeed chosen Mr. Brown's shop to furnish the cell bars, as Will Turner had not only exposed a weakness of their construction, but that he had been the one to exploit it.

"Well, he certainly chose the people with the correct skill to forge them."

In truth it was at the Governor's request that the job went to Mr. Brown's shop, however the swords that had also requested at the shop had nothing to do with the Governor's request, only the Commodore's confidence in the skill of the apprentice blacksmith, who was now his own master, and an equal partner in the business.

"Will, father, sorry to keep you waiting. It took slightly longer to get this on that expected," Elizabeth smiled at the two of them as she entered the room.

"You look wonderful, as usual, Elizabeth," Will nodded, agreeing with the Governor.

Elizabeth smiled again and seated herself at the table, next to Will, and picked up her teacup.

"We should use this opportunity to discuss our plans for the wedding, don't you think so, Will?"

"Maybe another time-"

"This is a most excellent opportunity to do such," The Governor said, cutting off Will's objections.

"After all, I can't very well provide for the wedding of my only daughter if I don't know what she wants."

Will sighed. He should have known by now that it was useless to try for a small ceremony. Governor Swann, and Elizabeth were of an elite class, one that felt that a wedding was supposed to be an extravagant occasion, meriting numerous guests and opulent gifts.

_No possible chance of sneaking Jack Sparrow in now._ His thoughts turned to Jack. A strange man, no denying it, but a good one. One that he considered his friend.

Will came back with a start, realizing that his thoughts had wandered off topic and that Elizabeth had just asked him a question.

"I- I don't know. What ever you wish."

Elizabeth frowned, and the Governor smiled.

"Excellent, then it is settled. Not exactly the place I would have chosen, but a good one nonetheless."

A servant entered the room carrying a letter.

"A letter for Miss Elizabeth Swann, and Mr. William Turner."

Elizabeth picked the letter off the proffered tray. Turning to Will she held it out.

"Why don't you take it?"

Will nodded and reached out, closing his hand about it.

He winced slightly when looking at it, realizing that it was a bit too dark in the room for reading.

"It's a little dark, isn't it?" The Governor asked, watching Will squint, "Hardly past three as well. Must be a storm."

As if on cue the low distant rumbling of thunder could be heard, and the sound of rain splattering against the windows.

At the Governor's request, the servants came in and began lighting the lamps.

Will opened the letter and was about to read it when he glanced down and saw that the signature was none other than Jack's.

The Governor and Elizabeth stared at Will expectantly.

Without reading the rest of the letter Will folded it up and stuffed it in his coat's pocket.

"Just a congratulations and well wishes," Will said.

The Governor nodded.

"Is that all?" Elizabeth asked. She had her suspicions on who the letter was from, and Will had never been any good lying to her. Still Will remained silent.

Sensing a mounting tension the Governor decided to intervene and ease it.

"I never told you about Abigail's and mine's wedding plans, now did I?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes and Will looked on with interest.

"Well it was out when we were riding . . . "

----------

Norrington had been out, drilling with the soldiers when he had fist noticed the raindrops falling. The sounds of orders being barked out and of people rushing out had cut out all noise from outside the fort.

Norrington frowned as a large raindrop fell onto the sheet he had been reading, blurring the words. He tried to brush the water away, but only succeeded in smudging it even more.

"A bit of trouble, sir?" One of the lieutenants asked.

"I will not dignify that with an answer, Mr. Reed," Norrington said in a flat tone. Reed smiled.

"You are no fun," Reed said.

"I was unaware that it was my duty to amuse you," Norrington said, still looking at the sheets.

"Shall we end the drill?"

"No. Pirates do not wait for the weather to be agreeable to us. Continue with the drill, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir." Reed said.

Norrington walked to one of the covered portions, seeking shelter from the rain that was now coming down much heavier than before.

Waiting until he was able to at least make out all the writing on the sheet that he could, he summoned Reed over.

"Enough of the drill now, I will be in my office if I am needed," Norrington said, turning and leaving.

"Drill's over. You make come out from cover, but with this rain . . . "

Norrington sighed as he shut the door to his office. His luck to have all the officers in the Navy who thought themselves humorous. He removed his hat and overcoat and draped them over one of the chairs.

He had started to write out a letter when he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in."

He glanced up to see Reed.

"Are Gillette and Groves back yet?"

"No, sir."

Norrington continued to scribble down words on the parchment, and then stopped.

"In that case," he said looking up and standing, "You shall be in command until Lt. Gillette returns. Then he will assume command."

"You are going, sir?"

"So it would seem."

"In the pouring rain?"

"It's pouring?"

Norrington blinked.

"Then I shall be staying here until it passes by."

He moved back to his desk and seated himself.

"Is that all, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed," Norrington watched as Reed left.

_It _is_ awfully dark in here._

He moved towards one of the lamps to light it.

-------------------

"Come on, step lively! Let's not stay out here any longer than necessary."

"Well, if you want it to go quicker you could step in and help carry some stuff," Groves said stepping up from behind Gillette.

"I am supervising."

"That you are."

Gillette turned to look at Groves.

"Well I don't see you doing anything."

"I'm keeping an eye on you. We can't have you going off and trying to exercise your wit too much. Wouldn't want you coming up with any more mermaid sayings."

Gillette groaned. "I really wish you would-"

"Look on the bright side," Groves said, "There is probably some woman somewhere that would love you for it."

"Well that just makes everything worthwhile, now doesn't it?"

"Exactly," Groves said with a smile.

"Looks like we're just about done here. Back to the Fort. Murtogg, Mullroy, stay with the contingent already on the _Dauntless_.

"The rest of you with me," Gillette commanded.

The rain turned from a light sprinkle to a full out downpour. The Navy men trudged up the now empty streets heading to the forts.

"I am completely soaked."

Gillette shook his head.

"Think of it as fair revenge. You laughed at me coming out soaking wet after having jumped out of the dinghy, and I shall laugh at you when you are soaking wet."

"Oh, so now you and the weather are conspiring together. You may want to reevaluate whatever your agreement is. You are soaking wet as well," Groves said, barely containing his mirth.

"If you have had your laugh at my expense then why don't you finally terminate this agreement?" Groves continued.

"If I could, I would, but unfortunately-"

The rain then slowed down, coming to a halt.

Gillette stopped in his tracks to look up into the sky.

"That's odd."

"Always knew you had it in you," Groves said, slapping Gillette on the shoulder as he walked by.

"Although, I will admit that it is a bit strange," Groves added as an afterthought.

A flash of lightning illuminated the gloomy streets and was almost instantly followed by a clap of thunder.

Had any of the soldiers glanced back, they would have seen the shadows of beings stalking them, disappearing when illuminated by the lightning.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_For Disclaimer, rating, etc, see chapter one._

Chapter 2

It had been nearly ten minutes that the Governor had droned on about his and Abigail's wedding plans.

By this time, Will had also come to the conclusion that listening to the Governor's lengthy recounting of events was not the best thing to do at tea time.

"But of course her parents insisted that it would be pink, but I detested the color so much that-"

"I think we get the point," Elizabeth interrupted, unable to listen anymore.

"Elizabeth, if you didn't want to listen you could have simply feigned attention, at least that way Mr. Turner could continue to listen without interruption. Correct, Mr. Turner?"

Will opened his mouth briefly to side with Elizabeth, but shut his mouth realizing that not siding with his future father-in-law might be a mistake.

"Well?" Elizabeth asked.

"I think that perhaps-" a loud crash in the next room cut Will off. He was lucky enough to be spared this time, as everyone redirected their attention to the crash. He breathed a quick sigh of relief.

The Governor frowned, and raised his voice to inquire as to what the racket had been.

"Whatever you are doing, you should keep the noise down."

A few moments passed with no response.

"Is anyone even listening to me?" the Governor tried again.

There was still no response.

The three exchanged glances amongst themselves.

Will and the Governor rose to their feet, quickly followed by Elizabeth.

The Governor had just made it to the door when all the lamps went out. The only light filtering in was from the windows, and too little light made its way through the dark storm clouds overhead.

The soft pattering sound made by the rain changed- now the crash of hail against the rooftops could be heard through the entirety of the house.

"Will?"

"Elizabeth?"

"Father?"

"Mr. Turner?"

"Where are you?"

"By the door?"

"Next to the table."

"I think I see a light flickering down the hall. Can you find your way to me?"

"Yes."

"I think I- oof!" The other two heard the sound of someone bumping into a hard object.

"Follow my voice, Will."

"Is that you, Elizabeth?"

"Mr. Turner!"

"Sorry, Governor!"

"I saw it this way."

The Governor took the lead down the hall, Elizabeth following, with Will taking up the rear. As they made their way down the hall they could see candle light flickering from under a door.

The Governor opened the door and a strong breeze came out of the room. Cautiously the three entered. There were three candles, lit and burning on a table.

"How peculiar," The Governor remarked walking over towards the candles, "There is a substantial breeze, and yet the candles haven't been blown out."

"And the hail has stopped," Will added, the sudden silence almost deafening.

Just then a creaking sound could be heard out in the hall- moving down it at first, and then heading towards the stairs.

There was a soft sweet song that could be heard- in a young woman's voice.

"Abigail?" The Governor said, confused.

Will looked at the Swanns and decided to take action. He grabbed one of the candles and went back out into the hall.

Elizabeth grabbed a candle and rushed out after Will. The Governor followed suit.

They followed the strange singing down the hall and to he stairs. Then, it stopped.

"What do we do now?"

--

At the Fort the winds had picked up, prompting many to seek shelter within the fort, or something to brace oneself against.

From within his office, sheltered deep within the fort, Norrington could still hear the wind outside.

_No doubt that it must be really strong._

The candle he was using to see his writing suddenly went out, leaving him unable to see anything around him.

Norrington sighed.

There was a frenzied knocking at the door.

"Commodore! Commodore!" It was Reed.

_Dare I ask what it is now?_ He thought, standing.

"What is it?" He asked.

Reed opened the door, and Norrington could see the silhouette formed from the lighting outside to office.

"There's something that you better come see."

Norrington carefully made his way to the door. Fortunately, there was some light making its way in around the lieutenant, and there was nothing else in a direct path to the door other than the desk.

"Now what is it that you wanted me to see?"

--

A group of redcoats and officers headed to the fort, soaking wet, their uniforms clinging to them.

"That is impossible," Gillette said suddenly.

"We should be at the fort by now, what did you do, lead the wrong way?" Groves asked.

"This is the shortest way from the dock to the fort, but this," Gillette said indicating the structure in front of them, "is not the fort."

"Quite so. We are standing in front of a tavern."

"You know the route as well as I."

"Yes, but let's think rationally for a moment. We are at a tavern, not the fort. Therefore you took a wrong turn somewhere- the result of your subconscious recognizing that you are thirsty for a drink, and bringing us here."

"What? What on earth are you prattling on about?" Gillette asked, looking at Groves, "I don't know who you are, or what you did to Theodore, but release him."

Groves shook his head and turned around, curious to see why the soldiers had become silent all of the sudden.

"You should-" Gillette was cut off as Groves grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him so that he was facing the opposite direction.

"They're gone--the marines," Gillette said with confusion.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Wesley. They probably just got bored and wandered off. Or they must have fallen behind us."

"They didn't. I saw them there not even a minute ago. And they wouldn't have wandered off...I'd have their hides if they did." Gillette said.

"I would more willingly accept that this is all a figment of my imagination," Groves said.

"Would your imagination shove you into a puddle?" Gillette said glaring, rather exasperated by Grove's seeming indifference to the predicament in which they found themselves.

"Well, you see-" Groves stopped as he realized than Gillette was in no joking mood. "No, but it could be mass hysteria. Something in the water."

Gillette frowned. He honestly did not know where Groves was coming from sometimes. He never knew that it was possible to be that strange.

"We'll split up. See if you can locate either the marines or the Fort."

Groves nodded, serious now.

The two choose opposite directions and headed their own ways, unaware that they were once again being followed.

--

Norrington and Reed had exited to the courtyard where the wind had stopped completely. The moon was just beginning to peek out from behind the clouds, which were very slowly dissipating.

"You called me out to observe a change in the weather?" Norrington asked, looking up towards the sky.

"No, sir, this way."

Norrington followed Reed to the parapet looking out over the bay. Reed handed Norrington a spyglass.

"Over there," Reed said pointing in the direction.

Norrington raised the spyglass to his eye and looked in the indicated direction.

"There is nothing there, Lieutenant."

Reed frowned and took the spyglass back, looking out.

"Well, that is odd. It certainly was there before."

"What was there?"

Just a Reed was about to respond a scream echoed through the fort. Both Norrington and Reed turned to the source.

Pouring out through the entrance to the cells were pirates- all former crewmembers of the _Black Pearl_.

"They died. I watched them all hang myself," Reed said with confusion as Norrington pulled the sword from his scabbard.

"Something is not right," Norrington responded before he ordered the troops to engage the pirates.

--

Will found himself following the Governor and Elizabeth up the steps against his better judgment.

We are following a disembodied voice, in a dark house. I wish that I had just stayed at the forge.

"It sounds like it is coming from the library," Elizabeth said.

"Then let's go." The Governor said.

Reluctantly, Will followed them up the stairs and into the library.

Suddenly all the doors in the hall opened simultaneously, slamming into the walls.

The noise startled the Governor, who dropped his candle, and Elizabeth backed up into Will, and very nearly fell to the floor as she spun around to see who was behind her. Will put his hand on her arm steadying her.

"That's unusual," the Governor remarked, as they cautiously continued to the library.

Walking into the library, they found nothing out of the ordinary.

"There is no one here," The Governor said, observing the floor to ceiling shelves.

The sound of a door closing down the hall could be heard. It was quickly followed by the sound of another door closing, and then another.

Will rushed to the library door, just as it slammed shut, forcing him to leap back to avoid getting caught. He threw himself at the door, grabbing the handle and throwing his full weight at it—it would not budge. Elizabeth and the Governor ran to his side to give what aid they could, and still it would not move.

"It's stuck."

"What are we going to do?"

"Third time's the charm?"

"Only in stories."

"What about the window?" Elizabeth suggested.

Just as they were about to move to the window to consider the option, the books in the shelves started rattling ominously, and then came flying out of the shelves, as they themselves began to topple over.

"Move!" Will yelled, pushing Elizabeth out of the way of the falling shelf.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_For disclaimer, rating, etc, see chapter one._

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Chapter 3

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Groves wandered through the streets, not aimlessly, for he had a destination in mind, but with no clue as to how to get there. He _knew_ the path, Heaven knows he had taken that route thousands of times, but for some reason nothing here was adding up. He was lucky if he recognized half the buildings—there was Mr. Brown's smithy shop, in the completely wrong side of town, one of the bakeries, that was three streets over from Mr. Brown's, and now residing on the same street. _What the devil is going on?_

Groves hurried his pace, still unsure of what good exactly it would do.

He turned the street corner and nearly ran straight into Commodore Norrington.

"Commodore!" He said, shifting last minute to avoid colliding with the other man, and in the process, he sent himself sprawling onto the street. If he had not already been completely soaked, he would have been now, landing in a puddle a couple inches deep.

Groves pushed himself back to his feet and turned to face Norrington, who was watching him very neutrally, with a gaze that was . . . off. He had no other way to describe the peculiar look on Norrington's face, but it did not seem right. Not that anything happening yet today actually seemed to be right.

"Are you alright, Commodore?" he asked the other man.

Norrington continued to stare at Groves, showing no indication that he heard the other man's question.

"Commodore?" Groves tried again.

Norrington blinked a couple of times and then spoke, "Bring the marines with you. You need to go to Governor Swann's home. They will need assistance."

"Sir?" Groves asked. Norrington continued to stand there, seeming practically oblivious to the world. It was as if he was some sort of automaton that just spoke and spewed out complete nonsense. He stepped forward, awkwardly, and then continued past Groves.

"Sir? Where are you going? And, why the Swanns? I don't even know where the marines are!" Groves said, jogging to try to catch up to Norrington.

Norrington rounded the corner, still not having replied, with Groves right on his heels.

Groves stopped dead and blinked as he came around the corner. Norrington was just ahead of him, and now . . . ? It was as if he had just disappeared into thin air. Groves brought his hands up to his face and rubbed at his eyes. When he dropped them back to his side, he was surprised to see two marines standing and waiting right where Norrington had disappeared.

"Where did you come from?" he asked them. They looked at each other and then at Groves.

"Is it really you, sir?" one of them asked.

"Of course it is me!" Groves exclaimed. Honestly, what kind of question was that?

"No disrespect at all, sir," the other marine quickly piped up, "but we just saw the Commodore, or at least we thought we did and he led us here after we somehow got separated from you and Lieutenant Gillette, sir."

"You jest," Groves said. The marines shook their heads.

"We wish, sir," they replied.

Groves rubbed at his temples with his fingers. First off, a storm, coming up just out of the blue—that alone wasn't necessarily something strange, or cause enough to be suspicious. Then there was the matter of the shifting streets and the inability to get back to the fort. Now Groves knew the way from the docks to the Fort well enough he could have walked it blindfolded, and his jesting of Gillette aside, he would have known if they took a wrong turn. But then, why did they not notice that the buildings were off on their way there? Sure, they were speaking but was that enough to cause a grievous lapse in observational skills? Then there were the marines who disappeared, and now were found, and then the appearance and disappearance of the Commodore. What would he be doing about in this weather, alone? Just meandering around the streets?

If Groves were to make a wager, he would say that it was not Norrington at all that he met up with, yet, he could not just disregard what his orders were on account of a series of bizarre coincidences and unexplainable phenomena. And, as far as logic was concerned, it had to be Norrington. Logic had also said that dead men could not walk, but hadn't that been disproved.

"Sir?" one of the marines asked, looking a little concerned, for the lieutenant had appeared to be lost in thought for a while.

"We go to the Swann manor," Groves said, making his decision. _And, by God, I hope it's the right thing to do._

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Elizabeth picked herself off the floor, with her father's help. She blinked rapidly, not entirely sure of how she came to be on the floor of the library with all the books around and—

"Will!"

Her concern for her lover was enough to propel her to her feet and back to the ground where Will was pinned to the ground under one of the heavy bookcases, his upper torso mostly free of the bookcase. Her father was by her side, shaking his head.

"But he's alive," she said, looking at her father desperately. She did not go all the way back to the Isla de la Muerta again, promise to marry Norrington, and then brake her word, to save Will and then have him die on her now. She moved for his neck to feel for a pulse and was rewarded with a steady beat under her fingers and a groan from Will.

"Elizabeth . . ." he trailed off uncertainly.

"Will, don't move, we'll get this shelf off of you," Elizabeth said looking to her father. The Governor moved to the edge of the shelf, trying to get a good grip on it. "Are you ready, Elizabeth?" She nodded to her father.

"One . . . two . . . three!" Elizabeth and Governor Swann heaved the shelf at the same moment, while Will managed to flip himself over, brace a hand against the shelf, and pull himself out from underneath. Once he had pulled himself free, Elizabeth and the Governor dropped the shelf at the same time.

"Will," Elizabeth said, moving to Will and being pulled into a hug by him. "Don't do that ever again."

"I can't promise that and you know it," Will said, "I love you too much. You should already know that," Will said pulling back just enough to look into Elizabeth's face.

"Ehem," Governor Swann made a noise, somewhat uncomfortable with the situation.

"Father," Elizabeth said pulling out of Will's arms, "I realize it may not adhere to the propriety you encourage, but I'm no longer a little girl, I'm going to be married, I'm engaged. You have to let me grow up sometime." The Governor gave a small sad smile.

"I suppose you are right. But, I want you to remember those words when you have your own children, and they are begging to let you grow up. I daresay it's the hardest thing for a parent to do," he said standing, and helping Will to his feet.

"It is," a soft, sweet, and musical voice said.

Elizabeth, her father, and Will all turned to look at where the voice came from. Standing in the now open doorway was a petite small woman, but a great beauty, one whom bore a great resemblance to Elizabeth.

"Mother," Elizabeth breathed.

"Abigail?" the Governor asked.

The woman nodded, "Yes, Weatherby, it is me." She smiled at them.

"You have no idea how proud of you I am," she said stepping forward as if to embrace her daughter, "you have found yourself a fine young man, and let your heart choose." She looked at Will, "my daughter has chosen well, Mr. Turner, I know you will not willingly let her come to any harm."

"Abigail," the Governor said again.

She turned to regard her former husband. "Please, Weatherby, I want you to know that not being with you, not being able to interact with you has been the hardest thing ever for me. I miss you so much. I missed so much. I missed being a part of raising our little girl, I missed all the time that I belonged to you. But, I have always been here with you, watching over you and Elizabeth. Right now, I'm here to see that no harm comes to you."

Will raised an eyebrow. No harm—that was not exactly what he would say had happened.

"Mr. Turner, perhaps you should watch what you are thinking, the thoughts of the living are no mystery to those who are dead."

Elizabeth shot a glance at her fiancée. "What did you do, Will?"

"Nothing, I'm sure," the Governor added, "Abigail always could tell what men were thinking, and I'm sure it is a skill limited only to womankind and God." Will nodded in agreement. It was uncanny what women could figure out sometimes.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Will and her father, an expression that was identical to the one on her mother's face. There was no question where she had picked up that expression.

"There is a task you must complete, all of you. There is one who is in trouble and needs your help," Abigail said.

"Who?" Will said, ready to leap into action. He had some idea of who it might be—most likely Jack; he was the only one who he could think of that would get into trouble on a night like this. And, after the letter he had received . . . what other reason could there have been for a response like that.

"You must go to the Fort," Abigail said, raising her hand to silence Will, whom was about to speak, "it is not the one you think who requires your help. If, on the way you should meet those who would seek to help you do not turn them away, there is a higher purpose to what is going on now."

"It's our duty," Swann said.

"Of course we will help," Elizabeth said, with Will nodding on, but still somewhat confused. If Jack was not the one in trouble, who then, could it be?

-------------------

Barbossa's crew had been tricky enough to beat the first time, when they were under the effects of the curse of the Aztec Gold, but to Norrington's knowledge, or at least by what he had been told by Jack, Will, and Elizabeth on the return trip to Port Royal that it had been lifted. But, as he buried his sword up to the hilt in one of the pirates, and was forced to duck under the pirate's riposte, it did not appear that the curse had been lifted.

Of course, he had been slightly skeptical as he had been told about the curse, and who could blame him or his men. While the common sailor was more about the superstitions, Norrington was a man of wealth, learning, and natural philosophy, a field that others later would equate with the study of science.

After he had seen the effects though, he had to wonder. The bible had spoken of similar things, plagues, the wrath of God, and other such things. Things that had not happened for such a long time that he had to wonder if they did really occur at all— or at least was embellished on by those responsible for the translations and writings within it.

Norrington caught the pirate's arm and heaved with all his strength to send him into the pirate next to him. The redcoat who had been previously engaging that pirate jumped back, to allow them to hit the ground and then lay in on him with his bayonet, the pirate merely growled and tried to fight his way back to his feet.

Norrington took the chance to spare a look to see how the rest of his men were fairing. He looked just in time to see Midshipmen Evans go down at the hand of a particularly large, chocolate-colored pirate. Two marines- Murtogg and Mullroy, his mind supplied, leapt to the defense of the fallen officer. Glancing in the other direction, he saw more go down. The pirates were unbeatable; they kept mowing down through everyone who came in their path. It was quickly going to become a bloodbath, and there was nothing Norrington could do to stop it, except perhaps . . .

"Fall back! Fall back to the guns, prepare them to fire!" Norrington's reasoning was that if they could not kill the pirates they could perhaps blow them up into bits, and that may have been enough to prevent them from reforming, quickly anyway, buying them enough time to find a more permanent solution.

Reed picked up the Commodore's orders and repeated them for the others to follow. He rushed back to the cannons, and started delivering orders and helping ready it when he realized the gun captain for that group was nowhere to be found. He had probably already gone down.

Norrington started to make his way back to the safety of the guns when he heard a marine cry for help. He turned to see Anderson fighting a pirate several sizes larger than himself, and losing. Norrington pushed his way through to help the marine. He would be damned if he was going to let another one of him men fall to these monsters!

He retrieved an abandoned sword from the ground, thrusting at the pirate who was about to kill Anderson. His ploy worked, the pirate turned his attention from the marine to Norrington, and James felt a small thrill of satisfaction as the marine was dropped to the ground, released by the pirate.

"Go!" Norrington ordered. The marine nodded, obeying and scampering off the ground and as quickly as he could back towards the relative safety of the cannons.

The pirate watched the little marine go, and smirked at Norrington. Norrington furrowed his brow, confused as to what the pirate might be gloating about until he felt himself roughly grabbed from behind.

_Damn it!_ He though, furiously, just before he was in pure agony, his stomach on fire. He looked down to see a sword through himself. That would certainly account for the pain. He gritted his teeth, staring at the pirate in front of him, trying his hardest not to cry out, even when the sword was cruelly ripped out of him. Fortunately, the pain was too much, and Norrington lost consciousness just before he was allowed to hit the ground.

Lieutenant Reed had been frantically looking about for his commander when he saw Norrington go down. No! That was not how things like this were supposed to end. When pirates were killed they were supposed to die, and the Navy's brave and valiant leader was not supposed to be the one to fall before the battle, that should not have even occurred in the first place, was over. No storyteller in their right mind would ever weave a tale that horrific.

But, with all the death, and unfairness of it all around him, Reed was reminded that this was no story, and that now he was the one left in charge, to try to salvage the situation as it was left to him.

"Open fire on the pirates!" If Norrington was still within the crowd and still clinging to life, the shot would most likely claim his life as well as those of the pirates around him. It was either that, or watch, as many more around him would perish. It was a cruel choice to have to make, but such was the duty of command, which was no stranger to Reed, but an unwelcome companion at this time.

Reed cursed the fates for their cruel tricks upon them, in every language he knew.


	4. Chapter 4

_For Disclaimer, rating, etc, see chapter one._

Updated, finally. It's been difficult to get back to writing this chapter after not writing anything for this story in so long, but I've not given up on it yet. Though I probably should. Anyway, there's one more chapter after this. After that there's a PotC/Hornblower crossover I'm working on, a Doctor Who/PotC crossover, and then I'll get back into gear on A Tale of the Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow. Either that or figure out how I can abbreviate the title more appropriately.

--

Chapter 4

--

As he entered yet another street that he knew, that held buildings which he knew did not belong there, Gillette began wondering whether splitting up had been the right idea after all. Maybe when they separated Groves had taken that characteristic luck he always had, and deprived Gillette of whatever meager amount he had owned. Maybe he'd managed to find the marines and make his way back to the fort. Maybe he'd met a mermaid.

Maybe, Gillette thought, if he closed his eyes and opened them everything would be back to the way it should have been. But that wouldn't get anything done, and no amount of that had caused Barbossa's crew to cease existing and dissipater back during the _Black Pearl_ debacle.

Gillette grit his teeth and took off at a jog, cursing his coat. It was long enough, and currently very waterlogged that it was proving to be a very annoying distraction when running. As was the squishing in his shoes from his soaked stockings. Between the squishing, the wet slap of the woolen coat against his legs, and the hairs of his wig making their way out of the ribbon that held them back, and into his eyes, he was just about done with this nonsense. Sitting down in the middle of the street—puddles or no puddles, mad world or not, was sounding good. Maybe then he could out wait the madness.

He stopped and leaned over slightly coughing. Damn weather. He'd never much liked the heat and running when it was damp and hot had always made him feel worn out. Not like that was something he'd admit to anyone. Things like that were best kept to oneself.

He straightened up suddenly. He heard the unmistakable sound of someone else walking towards him. He turned about quickly, eyes glancing all over the place for the individual who was walking about. A frown touched his lips when he could not find the source of the noise.

"Hello?" He tried, walking towards where he had last heard the noise. Nothing answered, and there were no sounds now, except for those caused by his movement. He stopped, maybe he was covering up the sounds? Nothing now. Dead silent.

"Come on, if there's someone out there will you just speak out?" He tried again.

_If this is you, Groves, I am going to kill you myself!_

He took another step forward, cautiously.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," he said, and turned around to the way he was originally heading.

_Slam!_

Gillette whirled around. It came from the same direction where the sounds had come from before.

"That's it," he said, he took off at a sprint in the same direction—whoever it was making that noise was going to be found. He ran around the corner into an alley, and the next thing he knew he was grabbed and slammed against a side of a building and then tossed to the ground. He was struggling to pull himself up when he heard a click, and then felt the cool barrel of a pistol to the right side of his head.

"Stand up slowly, no fast moves or..." Gillette felt the pistol tapped against his temple. He slowly moved his hands forward pushing himself back to his feet. He then held out his hands as he stood up completely.

"Turn around."

Gillette turned around, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, and came face to face with his attacker.

"Sparrow!"

Captain Jack grinned, showing his gold teeth.

" 'bout time you figured that, mate. Now, while you're listening to me," he waved the pistol once more, "let's see how well you do following orders when they don't come from the Commodore, shall we? I need your help, mate, and more's than that, a mutual friend of our's is in a spot of trouble, and you'd best come with me if you want him to live, savvy?"

Gillette narrowed his eyes at Jack, and crossed his arms.

"Who?"

Jack blinked, his expression unreadable.

"Well, that's for you to find out isn't it?" he said right before he turned around and started walking in the other direction.

Gillette stared at the pirate as he left.

Sparrow? Coming to help, leaving very _un_-helpful clues and comments. He'd have to be daft to follow him.

"I'm going to regret this," Gillette said, taking off after the pirate, after all every decision he'd made so far hadn't turned out so well.

--

"What is going on?" Swann said, standing in the middle of the road, a look of confusion upon his face.

"We should have been there by now," Elizabeth said, from next to him, "how is it that we're not getting there?"

"These streets are unfamiliar," Will said, "wait...isn't that the butcher's?" He pointed at a large brick building off to the left.

"I know we should have gotten our carriage and a driver," Swann said, looking around, "wait a minute...isn't that your smithy?" he said looking at Will, and gesturing towards another building.

"We should find someone and ask where we are..." Elizabeth said. She figured that if they could find someone, then if they couldn't figure it out, at least they'd be one more person if they were going to run into any more strange...events.

"Yeah...maybe we should nip in and get some supplies," Will said, ignoring Elizabeth's comment.

"Weapons? Whatever for?" the Governor asked, sounding slightly disturbed.

"Ghosts, falling bookcases, strange happenings, it's best to be prepared," Will said taking off towards the smithy.

"Is anybody even listening to me?" Elizabeth said, picking up her skirts and hurrying after Will and the Governor, "honestly, it wouldn't kill you to ask for directions. I don't see why it is you men are just incapable of admitting you need help and getting it, one would think I'm asking you to--"

"Stop," Will said, holding up his hand, the governor and his daughter obeying standing behind and slightly to the side of Will.

"Did you hear that?" he said, his voice low.

"That scratching sound?" the governor asked.

"Will, father, not that I want to worry you...but I think I saw a shadow move in there," Elizabeth said, peering past Will into the cracks of the door. She started back as she saw a shadow move again. Either it was the same one she saw before, or there were more than one of...whatever was casting the shadow.

"All the weapons are in there..." Will said, hesitating.

"I just saw it again," Elizabeth said, her hands on Will's arm as she leaned forward, eyes scanning for any more movement.

"Then perhaps we should head straight on the fort," Swann suggested, "They have weapons there if we need them."

"But what if we need them before we get there?" Elizabeth asked. The three of them looked at each other.

"There's a rack of swords right to the left of the door. I'll break the door in and go straight—you two go immediately for the swords, and then run. Make sense?" Will said.

The governor nodded, and after a moment Elizabeth agreed as well.

"Best plan we can have at the moment."

Will nodded, and took a breath, "On three then. One...two..." he reached forward, gripping the latch of the door so tightly that his knuckles turned white, "three!" He threw the door open and went forward, stopping short as he found himself on the receiving end of two muskets and a pistol.

"Hold! Or we'll—Governor Swann!" The man holding the pistol lowered it, and seconds later the two scarlet-coated marines next to him lowered their weapons as well.

"Lieutenant Groves?" Swann asked.

"Aye, sir," the man responded looking around at the Governor's two companions. Turner and his daughter. His daughter, and the governor would be little use in a fight, but Turner had proven himself able with a sword, not just at making them, during the whole _Black Pearl_ debacle.

"What are you doing here?" Will asked, suspicion coloring his tone.

Groves tightened his grip on the pistol, but kept it at his side.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said.

"I work here," Will replied testily.

"That is quite enough," Governor Swann said, "though I must insist lieutenant, that you answer Mr Turner's question. I'd like to know the answer myself."

Groves hesitated, "We were actually on the way to your manor. We heard some curious sounds coming from the smithy and came to investigate. Upon discovering nothing, we decided it might not be amiss to take some additional...arms."

Will was about to speak when he was cut off by the Governor.

"How curious...we were just on our way to the fort after...well, after meeting someone rather unexpected. We were told not to turn away any help that we might find."

"You think she was referring to them?" Elizabeth asked.

"Who else would she have been referring to?" the Governor asked, almost sure of the direction that the answer was going to be. No doubt something to do with that blasted pir--

"I actually thought that Jack would be the one," Will said. Elizabeth gave Will a small smile, nodding at him. _I would have thought him, too._

"Oh," Groves responded, at a loss for anything else to say in response to Will.

"Perhaps we should be on our way then? To the fort?"

"We'd better go," the Governor nodded.

"Sir, if you don't mind," Groves spoke, "Perhaps you'd better let us go first."

"Oh, of course," the Governor said, allowing the Navy men to pass him and emerge onto the street before him, followed closely by Will, who was not about to be left behind with the other civilians. If there was a fight, he was going to be in the thick of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Gillette knew that he would regret this. Left hand against a brick wall, his right on his knee as he was doubled over panting, the only thing he could think of at the moment that he didn't regret was the fact that there was no other person there to see him admitting defeat. Or at least admitting that Sparrow was clearly in better shape than he. They were essentially the same thing, anyhow.

"Come on, Lieutenant! What would your Commodore say?"

Gillette scowled and stood up pushing himself away from the wall, and he took after Sparrow's voice.

Damn the man! How the devil could he run so fast anyway?

Gillette considered his uniform as being one of the prime reasons why it was so difficult to run, but he was having enough trouble just remembering to breathe as he followed Sparrow, who seemed to be having no trouble whatsoever keeping up his pace.

_In. Out. Left foot. Right foot. Avoid that cobblestone. Run. Run. Run._ Gillette kept up the mantra in his head. He dared a glance up at Sparrow, and noted that the man seemed to be wobbling back and forth as he was running. That and...well...he seemed to be fading around the edges, too, now that he thought of it. Everything seemed to be fading a bit...

Gillette swallowed and stumbled, nearly pitching forward onto the ground.

_Don't pass out! Don't pass out! Don't pass out! _He knew what that was a symptom of, and the last thing that he was going to do was faint like a little girl because of a bit of running. His knees however, didn't agree with him, and like jelly they melted under him, and he found himself down on the dirt road. The overwhelming urge to retch up everything he had ever eating was almost irresistible.

"Gillette! Lieutenant!" It was Sparrow. Again. "Aren't you coming?"

"Gillette!"

"Go to the devil!" Gillette spat out. Sparrow's voice had acquired a different tone, he no longer sounded much like himself. It must've been that tinny quality that voices took on, right before you were out.

"Gillette?"

"Go..."

--

Reed had been in enough battles in his life to know when one was lost. And this one was most definitely lost. No matter how many pirates he thought he cut down, another two seemed to take their place. And the strangest thing was, Reed thought, as he cut down a pirate who growled at him right before his eyes—eye rolled up into his head and collapsed to the ground, was that he could have sworn he'd already done this. Not already done this as in cut down this one pirate before...though he certainly seemed familiar, or that he had been at this for a while, because he sure he had been if the ache in his sword arm was any indication, but there was just this sense of already doing this accompanied by a deep feeling of unease.

There was also a reason one didn't let their mind wander during a battle, Reed abruptly realised as he saw the sword point coming straight at him. He hadn't enough time to bring up his own sword to parry the attack, and he knew that there was no way this was going to end well for him. He tried to step back and twist, praying that the thrust would at least end up short of its intended target. The gods must've been looking out for him, for a flash of scarlet behind the pirate brought the pirate down, and nullified the threat he posed.

Shocked, but not willing to give into the urge to stay in that state, he reached down and grabbed the marine and hoisted him off of the pirate, nodding his thanks.

"It were no problem, sar!" The marine said, bringing his musket around to bear on the pirates again. There was no time for further words as the pirate rabble rushed in again, this time less interested in rending them with sharp objects than knocking the scarlet and navy coated men backwards and to the ground. A quick glance behind him confirmed what Reed had already suspected. The numbers of pirates were succeeding in pushing the fort's defenders into a wall. With too few to mount a successful push back, allowing them to maneuver them into the wall would be the same result as just falling to their knees and allowing the pirates to end it quickly.

It appeared that that loss he knew was coming, would be here sooner than wanted.

Reed gritted his teeth. If he was going to die, then he'd be damned if he went down without taking a few more of the bastards with him!

--

"This way!" Groves said, pushing past Will. The blacksmith narrowed his eyes at the officer, and stride for stride matched him, not willing to be pushed aside. Elizabeth was doing something akin to running in her skirts, in an attempt to keep up. One of the marines had taken up the rear, while the other one seemed unsure as to whether or not he should look after the governor, his daughter, or charge ahead with the lieutenant.

"We don't even know where this way leads!" Will said.

"It leads to the fort," Groves replied tersely.

"Well, actually--" Swann began before he was cut off by Will.

"You couldn't even find your way to us, we found you," Will replied, getting angry that the officer assumed that he would be taking command of the situation. Just because he came from a supposed better background didn't mean that he had the authority to command around civilians.

"Sir--" one of the marines broke in, him and the governor staying behind as the others moved forward.

"And you know no better than us where it is so we will stick to using a methodical..." Groves replied stopping dead and turning to Will, "..Method for finding the fort!"

"Will," Elizabeth started, looking back in the direction of her father, "I really think--"

"Methodical? You really think this," Will gestured, "is a methodical way to find the fort? We have no plan, and no direction."

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Elizabeth yelled at the two men, "What good is either one of you in charge when you miss the blindingly obvious?" She seized Will be the arm, and with a glare at Groves, dragged Will back to her father.

"See!" She said pointing down what they had assumed to be just another alley.

Will peered down it.

"Is that...?"

"The Fort!" Groves finished.

"Now, if you don't mind," she said, "I think we better do something else than just charge straight in."

Will nodded, "If someone acquires our assistance, and we do not know from what, it would be best to be cautious, but not to tarry too long."

"Then we'll proceed slowly enough to be careful," Swann added.

Groves and the marines stepped forward, weapons drawn into the alley.

"Sir, is that...?"

"Gillette?" Groves finished, sheathing his sword and rushing forward, and dropping to his knees. The rest of the group caught up quickly and Groves motioned for them to back up and give the man some room.

"Go...go to the..." Gillette raised his head, and was confused to find Groves looking at him, instead of Sparrow.

"We thought we'd lost you, sar!" One of the marines said, grinning broadly.

"Teddy?" Gillette asked.

"Yes..." Groves said, not liking the questioning tone in Gillette's voice.

"You would not believe what's been happening," Gillette answered, deciding that it was, indeed Groves, or that if it wasn't, he wasn't in a mood to really care.

"Join the club," Will said.

Gillette looked up to observe the group clustering around, despite Groves' previous request for some room. Hastily he moved to his feet, lightly pushing back Groves' attempted support.

"Did you see..." he stopped, and shook his head. He knew the answer to his own question. If the others had seen Sparrow, Miss Swann and Mr Turner most certainly would either be following him right now and not be here, or they'd be caught up in following his lead.

"See what?" Groves asked.

"Not now," Gillette answered, shooting Groves a look. He'd have to speak with him later about it. For now, he had no desire to bring up Sparrow around the to-be Turners. He did nothing but inspire the worst in them, and that being the case, he had little time to deal with any questions that might arise if he asked if they had seen him.

Elizabeth regarded Gillette suspiciously.

"Well, a remarkable coincidence, Lieutenant, but I believe we must continue to our destination," the Governor said.

"We're heading to the fort," Groves supplied, answering Gillette's unasked question. Gillette looked up, surprised to see the fort so close. He certainly did not remember getting that close, right before his collapsed...he furrowed his brow.

"I think that before this is all over, many more times I'll regret ever lamenting my boredom."

"I know what you mean," Groves replied. From behind him, he thought he heard something that sounded like Will's agreement.

Gillette drew his sword, and at that, they moved forward cautiously, their ears beginning to pick up the sounds of a fight.

"I suppose that it is a good idea you stopped to pick up some more weapons," Will said, moving in front of Elizabeth and careful to ensure that she and her father stayed behind him.


End file.
